The Sacrifice: Chapter 13

I pull up to Blackout and turn off my car. She hasn’t spoken to me since we left the dentist’s office thirty minutes ago. Getting out, I open her door and grab her hand, pulling her from it.

“Why are we here?” she asks softly when we enter through the back door.

All the lights are on, but we’re the only ones here at the moment. “This is where we’ll live,” I inform her.

“But your house—”

“We’ll live here,” I repeat, and she lets it go. I’m at Blackout most of the time already, so I figured it’d be best if we just lived here. I don’t want her at my home right now. It’ll raise too many questions that I refuse to answer.

We enter the elevator and ride it up to the fourth floor, where the apartment is. I unlock the door and we step inside. “You have three hours,” I say, glancing at my Rolex.

She turns to face me, a look of concern in her blue eyes. “Three hours until what?” she asks slowly. I’m sure part of her mouth is still numb from the dentist.

“Until the club opens.”

“Why would that matter to me?” she wonders.

I smile, stepping into her. “Because you’re going to work here.”

Her eyes widen and her lips part. “Tyson—”

“You will work for Blackout.”

“But I don’t want to.”

I snort. “Doesn’t matter what you want.” I step away and turn my back to her. This is part of my plan. A Minson working as a cocktail server at a nightclub is beneath them. Just another way to drag their name through the mud. I want her father to be disappointed. Embarrassed. This is one way of many to do it.

“Tyson—”

“Get ready. Meet Beau down at the bar, and he’ll help you get your uniform.” I turn to exit the bedroom.

“You’re leaving?”

I face her once more, and I can’t tell if she’s excited to be alone or terrified. “I’ll be in my office. I have work to do.” With that, I turn and leave the apartment.

Entering my office on the second floor, I sit down and pull out my cell when it starts to ring. “Hello?” I answer.

“Hey, man. Nice wedding,” the familiar voice says in greeting.

I lean back in my chair. “Glad you were able to make it.” Smiling, I add, “Didn’t know you planned on attending.”

He snorts. “When they require cloaks and masks for attendance, it’s easy to hide in plain sight.”

“True.” I agree.

If the Lords had seen them there, they’d have had a fucking fit. The Spade brothers are Lords in a sense, but not what you’d think. They run their own hell, their own way. Just like I do with Blackout. They don’t have to answer to the higher-ups because you don’t get any higher than them. Not all who rule choose to watch peasants from their thrones. Some of us like to keep our hands dirty.

“I just wanted to congratulate you and let you know we’re making a quick trip out of town. We’ll be back soon, though. I’ll reach out when we return.”

LAIKYN

I didn’t need a shower, but I decide to take a long, hot bath. It feels good to relax. To be left alone with my thoughts and actually get to breathe without feeling like he’s watching me.

My body aches everywhere, and I’m sore between my legs. Will it always feel like this? I remember watching my sister and Tyson have sex in our parents’ media room once, and she didn’t cry. She enjoyed it. Begged him to fuck her harder. Will it be like that for me? Is my body broken because of how much it hurts? Tyson has already proven that it won’t matter if it’s painful. The only thing that matters to a Lord is themselves. And he had no problem getting off. Told me I’d have to earn to come from now on. How will I earn it? And how long will I be able to hold out until I beg him to hurt me again?

Is that his plan? Make me beg for bruises by his hands? To be treated like his personal whore? He just gave me a little taste and now wants me to beg for each bite.

Lifting my hand out of the water, I take a deep breath and finally look at my wedding ring. It’s a heart-shaped red diamond ruby, or maybe it’s a red diamond, with a double diamond band. It’s exactly what I expected, large and over the top. Another way for him to own me and show off that I’m his. I hate that it’s gorgeous.

Dropping my hand back into the water, I lean my head back and sigh. Tears prick my eyes, and I close them. Letting my body relax, I slide down into the water to drown out my mind, the voices screaming at me to run. You don’t run from men like Tyson. That’s how you end up chained to a wall in a basement.

I walk down to the main bar, knowing the club opens in less than thirty minutes. I made sure to take my time. Honestly, I’m surprised that Tyson didn’t come up to the apartment and fuck me again. Then I told myself to shut the fuck up. The only reason he slept with me at the hotel was to prove a point to my father. I’m no longer a virgin. He’ll probably choose to fuck anyone other than me now.

If I’m lucky, he’ll never touch me again. Hell, that may be why he wants me to beg him for it, just so he can have the power to turn me down. It’s all mind games when it comes to a Lord. It’s only my first day of being a Lady and I’m already mentally exhausted. At least my mouth is no longer numb from the dentist and I’ve stopped drooling on myself. Now my mouth is just sore. A dull reminder that, once again, he’ll control everything I do.

I stop to see men and women running around the club with the lights on. It’s four stories tall, the apartment being the top floor. It’s got a dance floor in the middle, tables and booths line the far walls. A hallway leads to the entrance and exit where a security guy stands next to the coat check. His hands hanging on his bulletproof vest. I’ve never been here before, but I’ve heard stories of people getting shot, beaten, killed. It’s like a free-for-all. Then add alcohol and drugs to the mix, and it’s a recipe for disaster. But I expect nothing less when it comes to a Lord owning a nightclub.

Cages stand on platforms in various places on the dance floor. They’re high enough that if you got into one, you’d be able to see out over the entire club.

I look over the men and women setting up chairs and carrying trays, getting ready to open. I run my sweaty palms down my thighs. I had to put my clothes back on that I took from my luggage at the hotel after my bath. I don’t even have any makeup on right now. I don’t have mine with me. He did have a hairdryer, though, so I was able to at least dry my hair. There was also a curling iron under the sink. I don’t even want to ask who it belongs to, but I used it. Might as well look halfway decent. I understand that to make money as a cocktail server, you must look presentable.

“Laikyn?” a guy asks, stepping out from behind the main bar.

“That’s me,” I say softly.

“Follow me.” He takes me down a hallway and to a back room. It’s a locker room. Open with lockers lining each side, a bench in the middle, and a few showers against the back wall. Each one has a curtain for very little privacy. “This will be yours.” He points at a black locker that has Mrs. Crawford across the top.

I sigh. He’s going to shove it down my throat. As if I could ever forget that I was forced to marry the enemy. Like I could ignore the rock on my finger that feels like an anchor.

“Here is how to set your combination.” He holds out a folded piece of paper and I take it. “Your uniform is in the locker. And Tyson told me to tell you to see him before you start your shift. His office is on the second floor.” With that, he turns and exits, leaving me all alone.

I open the piece of paper and follow the directions on how to set the code. Once done, I open it up, and my shoulders slump when I see my uniform.

You’re a trophy, Lake. What did you expect?

I should have known I’d be dressed as the others. Not sure why I didn’t think of it before. He might as well tattoo Tyson’s slut across my ass cheeks.